I wrote this blog on my birthday.
Let me begin by saying that no matter how many pages flip on the calendar and how rapidly they add up, the adage is true: Growing old really does beat the alternative. I am thankful for my life and for everyone and everything that makes it full and rich.
There are things I can’t do as well or as quickly as I once did. I tried running yesterday. I used to run all the time. Now, doing so has devolved basically into brisk walking. The truth is, the only difference for me between walking and running is how I swing my arms while my feet move. I could lament that, I assume, but life no longer requires that I lead a fast break downcourt or beat out a grounder to first base. I’m grateful I can walk. That is a gift, whatever the pace.
I can’t see well without glasses, despite the fact that I had cataract surgery on both eyes. I thought that was supposed to restore vision to the quality of your teens. Apparently such is not the case. As my ophthalmologist told me: “Your lenses are new, but your retinas still have some miles on them.” I’m glad she sees (pun intended) the humor in it. I’m also glad that when I put on my progressive lens glasses, I actually can see (almost) as well as I did in those teen years.
It seems a person’s appetite changes with the years, as well. There was a time when I couldn’t go a week without visiting one of my favorite buffets (plural). Usually, it was more than once a week. I still love food, mind you. A lot! But, somehow the idea of a bottomless bowl of pasta or an all-you-can-eat home cooking venue doesn’t appeal like it once did. And, wonder of wonders, I have discovered a passion for fruit. At least once a day I hunger for a serving of strawberries, blueberries, melon, apples, and bananas tossed together in agave syrup. Admittedly, my wife has to remind me that a serving the size of a mixing bowl that is covered with agave is not exactly “slimming.” Still, it’s a move in the right direction from pizza buffets that also serve cinnamon buns for dessert. I’m thankful for food … even fruit. (Maybe someday I’ll learn to like salads – but not yet.)
Many friends and family members whom I cherished across the years are no longer here. I miss them. By the same token, as the years pass we accumulate more and more friends, new faces with warm smiles similar to those we knew on other faces long ago. They don’t replace the ones who are gone. But they do create their own places in our circle of love. Thus, the circle changes but it doesn’t disappear. I’m profoundly grateful for that. For them. For you.
I still have the opportunity to preach (in summers at Blowing Rock and the rest of the year literally all over the place), to teach (currently at two different universities, probably because Adjuncts are affordable), to write (even if my works don’t exactly fly off the shelf like Dr. Seuss or Danielle Steele), and to spend time with people because I want to and not because it’s expected. A major advantage professionally in this stage of life is that I no longer have to attend meetings. For every ten meetings I attended over the years (and there were often that many per week), at least nine of them would have worked just as well whether or not I was present and could easily have been handled by email rather than a gathering. I no longer have to attend those get-togethers. None. Nada. Zip. I am deeply okay with that.
Nowadays, as the wonderful old poem puts it, I have reached an age where I can wear purple. (Read “Warning” by Jenny Joseph. It will explain what I mean.) It’s not that the opinions of others no longer matter. They do matter, and they should. They are guardrails for human behavior. It’s just that I think I am finally figuring out that God’s opinion of my life and my own opinion, as well, matter even more. There’s something liberating about that.
Last night we watched The AARP “Movies for Grownups” Award Show. It was wonderful. I knew the performers and their magnificent bodies of work. We’ve grown older together. Most of them have white hair. They laughed a lot. They celebrated what was but are still contributing both to what is and what is yet to come. I felt at home with them. Inspired by them. Ready to embrace “the now”, as they do – but still to be invested in the future. So what if I can’t run as fast as I once did? I’m still part of the race. Plus, tonight … there will be cake!